Distant Light - Reverse Harem Romance (Tales From the Edge Book 1)

by Chloe Adler

  Sadie spent the last year taking classes at our local college on spell casting and Latin. I used to be the one who showed her the arts, since Mother kept her ignorant of so much magic, but now that she’s grown into her power, she’s the one teaching both me and Chrys whenever she can. I’m not fluent in Latin yet like Sadie is, but I am a quick study.

  I recite the phrase two more times and throw my hands out toward the door handle. I hope that it’s working but I can’t test it without breaking the circle. Maybe Mom will stay away and not put it to the test.

  I focus on my next spell. To sneak out later and make it look like I’m still in bed, I need to cast a spell of mixed perception. Aurelia taught me how to cast this particular spell years ago when she was spying on Chrys.

  A pinch of cinnamon, two of chicory, and one of aconite. The flame licks my hand, and I pull back with a yelp, then cast my eyes toward the door, expecting Mother to burst through any second. A minute later, I relax and recite the next spell on a long stream of breath. “Videbunt oculi insar est falsum in lectulo.” Eyes see a false likeness in my bed.

  Next, I sit down on my wood floor, cradling my crystal ball in my lap. Passing my left hand over the top, I ask, “Where is the rogue vampire now?” The crystal churns inside like smoke billowing up from a raucous campfire. When it clears I squeal, the ball sliding off my lap and rolling heavily across the floor.

  “Iphigenia?” Mother’s voice calls out on the other side of my door, followed by frantic knocking. Aurelia, knocking? That’s a first.

  “I’m fine, Mom. Please don’t come in.”

  The handle turns. My eyes dart wildly around the room, not sure what to clean up first, but the door holds.

  “Why is your door locked?” she says through clenched teeth. “Unlock it this instant.”

  “It must be stuck.” I blow out the candles and scoop everything under my bed. “One sec.”

  The door continues to rattle, Mother twisting and turning the handle. I’m on my feet and jumping toward the door when it’s flung open, her reddish hair flying around her head as if caught in a heavy wind. The look in her eyes is crazed, her nostrils expanded, lips pursed. “What. Is. Going. On?”

  “Nothing.” I flash her a toothy, innocent smile but she just wags a finger at me.

  “If I find out you’ve been up to no good, Iphigenia—”

  “Me?”

  “I will kick you out of this house so fast—”

  “Mama.” I hold my hands up in what I hope is a placating gesture. “You know I could move out anytime I want to. I’m the one who’s chosen to remain here. With you.”

  She scents the air, ignoring my plea. “What were you burning?”

  “I lit a candle.” I motion toward one of the four, still on my vanity. The others are safely scattered under my bed.

  “A white candle? A ritual white candle?”

  “Is it?” I cross over and wrap my hand around it, bringing it up to eye level. “Oh, you’re right. Silly me.”

  Mother huffs but thankfully turns to go. Before exiting, she opens and closes my bedroom door several times and then eyes me over her shoulder. “Keep your bedroom door open until you go to sleep tonight.”

  “Sure thing, Mom.”

  It’s unusual for me but I can’t tune out my thoughts, which tumble mercilessly down the shores of Aurelia. Rhys seems to have set this all in motion with his comments.

  My love for my mother is fierce but the way she treats me is taking its toll, wearing me down like a piece of glass caught in the shallows of a churning current for years on end. My surfaces, too, are flat, the rough edges polished away, fine cracks smoothed out. What, then, makes that piece of rock different from any other piece? Do I even have my own personality? Am I an individual or am I merely the person my mother wants me to be?

  Smooth, without flaw, featureless.

  Bland.

  Chapter Ten

  Caspian

  “I need to talk to you,” Rhys says.

  “Sure. Sure.” It’s been a long day at work and I’m feeling every sleepless hour of last night, but the intent look on Rhys’s face wakes me up a little. I take a step toward the back of the station, figuring we can talk in the interview room for privacy, but he holds up a hand.

  “Not inside. Grab the others and meet me outside in five.”

  It must be important. Rhys isn’t one to demand anything. I text the others and walk out to the front of the station where he’s waiting on one of the benches.

  “What’s up?” I ask.

  He holds up a finger and we sit in silence until the others join us. “I have been with Iphi all morning,” he starts and we exchange glances. “First, I wanted you all to know that I’m developing feelings for her and I think she’s developing them for me too.”

  Shit, I’m too late? I want to scream at him and tell him that I have feelings for her, too. I suspect we all may be interested in the Flying Seraphim but are either too polite or too hardheaded to say anything. Well, probably not Dom, he doesn’t seem to even like her as a person, let alone romantically. I want to be happy for Rhys but in the moment, envy takes over. I swallow back a growl. Dominic shoots me a look, his eyebrows raised.

  “But that doesn’t mean she’s not interested in one of you as well.” He’s looking at me. So much for trying not to broadcast my own interest.

  “Really, man?” says Thorn. “So you and Caspian are going to fight over some hot piece of ass?”

  “Hey.” Dominic steps in front of Thorn. “That’s incredibly misogynistic and Rhys doesn’t sound like he’s interested in fighting any of us for anything. Surely you know him better than that.”

  Thorn huffs. “Right, of course. I forgot, him and Caspian share everything.”

  “Stop it,” Rhys snaps. “Nothing’s happening on that front right this second. I just wanted you to know what’s going on with me. More importantly, we all know my brother is after her but she doesn’t seem afraid.”

  “No, she doesn’t.” I rub my hands together. “She almost looked annoyed with me last night when I intervened.”

  “What the hell does Nolan want with her?” asks Dominic.

  “I’m not sure.” Rhys runs his hands through his hair. “ We know he came here for her. He may have been told to find her. Whoever is pulling his strings may have a personal interest in her. Or maybe it’s as simple as him believing she can help him beat this because she’s a witch from the strongest family in the Edge.”

  “And if he did any research on her,” I add, “he’d know she has a bleeding heart for the downtrodden as well.”

  “That does make her an easy mark,” grumbles Thorn.

  “More importantly,” says Dominic, “maybe she can help him. Maybe the others, too.”

  “What the hell does it matter?” Thorn’s voice rises. “He needs to be stopped. And nothing can help the ghouls. All we can do is put them down.”

  “You act like you don’t have a heart, but you’re not fooling any of us.”

  Thorn narrows his eyes at Dominic, jaw clenched, but he doesn’t respond.

  “Does she understand the danger he poses? Has she seen any signs of the ghouls yet?” I ask.

  “I don’t think so,” Rhys sighs. “She might not recognize them if she did, though. We would recognize one on sight, even if it hadn’t fully devolved yet. She doesn’t want us following her, but one of you, in your shifts, is going to anyway. Understood?”

  I nod and look at Dominic, who shrugs and looks at Thorn. Why does Dom always have to put on such a front? Is he lying to us or to himself, acting like he doesn’t care about the girl? Thorn, on the other hand, nods without a moment’s hesitation, though ordinarily he’d bristle at being dictated to.

  Thorn is the oldest, our pack leader, and the only father figure we had for much of our lives. He’s built a solid front of nothing-to-see-here, but he’s also the one who remembers our parents the most, lived with them the longest. He’s the one who was hit the hardest w
hen we lost them and our home. As the youngest, I had my older brothers to care for me and was more malleable than the others. Dominic’s way of dealing with it was to study psychology, while Rhys used his fists. Nolan drifted farther and farther from us before he eventually cut us out altogether. So the burden always fell on Thorn, our protector. He’s afraid to let himself fall in love. It’s easier for him to jump in and save people than send them on their way before they can ditch him.

  And as though he can read my thoughts, he speaks up. “I’ll help with the Iphi situation, but only because she’s Nolan bait and I want that situation fixed.”

  “Fine,” I say. “As long as you’re on board, the why doesn’t matter.”

  “We need a plan,” says Dominic. “Something solid that can use Iphigenia to help us capture Nolan.”

  I shift uncomfortably. “How can we protect her while using her as bait?”

  Dominic sighs. “There are four of us. We can protect her. We’re strong, and we all have powers. She won’t be in danger.” He offers Rhys a tight smile.

  “He’s right,” Thorn huffs, “we’re a force to be reckoned with and I’m itching for a fight.” He punches his own hand.

  I roll my eyes. I’m surrounded by testosterone-poisoned idiots.

  “That doesn’t sound like much of a plan, Dominic, but we don’t have a lot of leeway right now,” says Rhys.

  Thorn stops pacing. “She won’t get hurt. She’s got us, and she’s got that protection medallion thingy, right?”

  Rhys nods. “I’m meeting her tonight at Promise. It would be best if we’re all there. I want her to get used to being around all of us together. That way it won’t be so obvious that we’re her personal bodyguards.”

  I can get behind that. Shit, I’d like to get behind her. From the eager look on some of my brothers’ faces, I’m not the only one.

  Chapter Eleven

  Iphigenia

  Waiting until ten o’clock in order to sneak out of the house proves more difficult than I anticipated. My heart races uncomfortably and I take another shower after I drench myself in nervous sweat. Texting Burgundy, I ask her to be my wingwoman at the dance club, and she agrees. Getting a ride from her will cut down on my jitters, and she consents to meeting me a couple of blocks over.

  I feign exhaustion after dinner and escape to my room, setting up the fake Iphi illusion in my bed.

  It takes me close to an hour to get ready, more to kill time than out of vanity. And because I have to keep my mind off the fact that I’m going dancing tonight. Sitting in front of my mirror, I gather my locks, pinning each one up carefully so they form a bright halo around my head. The curls cascade down in soft waves, reminiscent of a mermaid underwater. Refusing to wear foundation, I make up my eyes with a natural-looking-blush eye shadow and light-brown mascara. Then I line my lips in pink and fill in my plump bottom lip and the Cupid’s bow on my top lip with a shiny mauve.

  The night air is warm in June, and I choose a sundress. It’s black with a base of tiny flowers and it buttons up the bodice. I grab a purple sweater in case it gets cooler and my favorite pair of silver strappy heels. I’ve trained myself to wear heels as a performer, but also because I’m just not that tall.

  Climbing out of my window proves easy enough, after I remove the screen and stash it in my closet. Mother has phenomenal hearing so I tiptoe around barefoot, dropping my sweater, purse, and shoes out of the window into the bushes, where each lands with a small thud.

  Footsteps down the hallway toward my room freeze me in place. There’s a soft rap on my door before it opens a crack. Oh no, I forgot to re-do the door locking spell. My heart jumps into my throat, beating so loudly that I’m sure Burgundy can hear it two streets over, where she’s sitting in her car, waiting for me.

  Light pours in from the hallway as Mother cranes her head inside. “Iphi?” she calls softly. I stand completely still in front of the window, holding my breath, and praying to the Moon Goddess and Pan and any other deity I can think of that my spell will work. The door doesn’t open further, but Mother stays poised there for a moment, sniffing the air. Crap, the window is open.

  “Is everything all right, darling?” Alistair says from behind her.

  “Yes, dear. Don’t talk too loudly, she’s asleep.” Her head disappears and the door closes with a soft snick.

  The breath I let out is far too noisy, but the illusion spell worked and I want to do a little dance. Instead, I call out a thank-you to the moon and Pan and hoist myself out the window.

  Landing with a thud, I dust myself off, then gather my purse and don my sweater and shoes. There’s a faint curdled-milk scent on the wind that prickles the hairs on my arm, but I tell myself it’s nothing and walk down our lane toward Burgundy’s car.

  As I turn onto the next block, the rancid smell wafts by again, stronger this time. My head darts left, then right, but nothing is there. A twig snaps. The trees overhead rustle in the breeze. One more step and the monster vampire lands in front of me with a thud as though dropped from above.

  Shouting with surprise, I hold my hands up, palms out, and take a step backward.

  “Iphigenia.” My name sounds like the wind coursing through the sails of a phantom pirate ship. “Please . . .”

  His eyes are the darkest of blacks, as if they’re nothing but two large pupils. He has no iris and no sclera. This, more than his scars and savage teeth, scares the bejesus out of me.

  “Don’t hurt me,” I finish, breathless.

  He takes a step backward, shaking his long, dark, ratted hair. “Never hurt you. Looking for you.”

  “Me? Why?”

  The rogue vampire looks at the ground in front of him. I follow his gaze, noticing for the first time how shattered he is. It’s more than his tattered clothing, which is nothing more than strips and holes. More than the crazy look in those blackened eyes. More than the stench wafting off him, so pungent I have to clench my mouth shut and swallow repeatedly to keep from heaving.

  He raises his gaze and tilts his head, the movements short and jerky, almost robotic. His head doesn’t swivel on his neck, it cranes unnaturally. “Your heart,” he finally says.

  Instinctively, I clutch both of my hands to my chest. “You want my heart?” I practically scream, backing away.

  “No,” now he’s the one holding up his palms, “not like that.”

  “What then?” I keep backing up.

  “No one’s spoken to me in so long.”

  “What happened to you? Who are you?”

  “My name is monster. No, Nolan. No, monster. Made so by another’s hands.” He snorts. “That’s what keeps me going day after day. Who I want to be . . .”

  My senses practically scream his sincerity, though his words are all but unintelligible. The idea of starting over fresh each new day, hoping to reinvent himself—the sensation pouring off Nolan is almost tangible. Yesterday is gone and tomorrow has yet to come, but today . . . is a blank slate. “Where do I fit into that?”

  “Master wants you for himself.”

  “What!” I shriek.

  “But I won’t let him hurt you. Ever.”

  “Have you been following me to kidnap me?”

  “I don’t want to. I fight not to. You glow so brightly, a beacon. A reminder of what I’ve lost. Goodness here, in the world. I will protect you.”

  “I . . . glow?”

  “It’s how I follow you. All the others, too. The ones I made. You glow, a bright light in the night.”

  I have no idea what he’s talking about. Was this a spell cast upon me so he’d always be able to locate me? “Why do the shifters and my vampire friend want you, too?” I ask. “To help you?”

  His ragged form shakes. Though he drank just the other night, he looks like he hasn’t had sustenance for months. “I don’t know. I fear not.”

  “What do you think they want from you?”

  “They must seek my master, the ever-changing one. The nightmare. For me, destruction.”
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  I hope not. Killing is not something I can condone. “What would they want with your master?”

  “To defeat him.”

  I shake my head, inhale deeply, and hold it, trying to focus on the face in front of me. Trying to parse why he looks so familiar.

  “Iphigenia,” he takes a step toward me, “I’m so hungry. I’m starving all the time.”

  I take a step away but my back hits a tree.

  His head jerks and tilts, the angle oddly insectile. When he blinks, the blackened orbs snap like a camera lens. In an instant, the pupils split vertically, like the eyes of a cat, before blinking back to utter blackness.

  When he lunges for me, I’m unprepared. One minute, we’re having a civil conversation and the next . . .

  His hands grasp the air in front of my body, clutching at nothing. Fingers open and close a few inches from my nose. An invisible barrier separates us. My amulet. At least it’s working now. Maybe it only protects me when someone intentionally wants to physically harm me?

  “You think you can evade me, girl?” The voice that comes from Nolan’s mouth is not his, not anymore, but there’s something eerily familiar about it.

  My sisters, my mother, the guys, anyone would label me naive, but I know in my bones that Nolan would never hurt me. But the thing that stands in front of me now is not the rogue vampire. It’s his puppet master.

  “Release Nolan,” I command, head held high, shoulders squared.

  “In exchange for you? Gladly. Give yourself to me, Iphigenia.” The way he hisses my name claws all the air out of my lungs. Like I’m a drowning rat in a sea of rats, listening to the sounds of their shrieks, my own shrieks, in the darkness. The sound of claws scraping along a metal wall, scrabbling for purchase. The terrified hisses and writhing bodies flailing against one another, the weak used as life rafts.

  “How do I know y-you?” So much for sounding brave.

  Nolan’s hands grasp at my face, not quite connecting. My amulet is keeping him at bay but he’s still far too close for comfort.